Chapter 15
“What are they doing?”
The Leaky’s backroom was crammed with off-duty Aurors and smelled like the inside of a whiskey barrel. Despite being such a tight fit, a space had been created in the centre of the room.
“Ron?” Hermione gave her partner another poke and, when he turned to grin down at her, squirmed under his arm. “Well? What’s going on?”
“Hey love,” he bent down the kiss the top of her head. “How was your day? Did-”
“Ronald.”
“Right, sorry. Forgot that it was actually illegal for me to pay my girlfriend any attention when Harry Potter is within a 20 mile radius. Maybe I should arrest myself?”
“Oh hush,” she reached up to give him a proper kiss. “I had a lovely day, thank you. I missed you. Now, please tell me why everyone is standing around watching Harry and Draco hug?”
“I see that you don’t want to know about my day, alright, alright!” Ron held up his hands in surrender, laughing at her huff of frustration and turning back to gaze at Harry and Draco. “Well,” he gently moved Hermione so that she was standing in front of him and hooked his chin over her shoulder. “Draco’s been complaining about the Secret Santa for the last month, says it’s a waste of time and a crude attempt by Social Sec to guarantee everyone turns up to the party.”
“Well he’s not wrong.”
“Of course he’s not, smug bastard rarely is. But it turns out that he got Harry.”
“Oh…” Hermione drew out of the word.
“Exactly. And guess what he got Harry, in order to protest the Secret Santa, of course.”
“A cock ring?”
“No,” Ron sniggered. “He got Harry a certificate for ten hugs.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“And of course Harry being Harry…”
“Mmmhmm, he tried to call Draco’s bluff.”
As the pair of them watched in glee, Harry’s right hand started to minutely stroke Draco’s back. Draco stiffened, shifting so that his hips were a no longer quite as close to Harry’s.
“Oh this is torturous,” Hermione sighed. “I want wine but I don’t want to miss anything.”
“Got you covered, love.” Ron produced the small leopard print hip flask that Ginny had given him last Christmas.
“Ever the strategist,” Hermione smiled, taking the flask and pressing a kiss to his knuckles as she kept her eyes fixed on Harry’s roving hand.